


Give a Little, Get a Lot, Part 1

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair are planning a wedding, but one of them is a little lax in the participation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give a Little, Get a Lot, Part 1

## Give a Little, Get a Lot, Part 1

by Scribe

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles>

This story is not meant to reflect on the lives of the actors who portrayed the characters.

This first appeared in My Mongoose Ezine. Thanks to Elain for beta.

This story is a sequel to: The Drilling Rig 

* * *

_taptaptaptap_

"Ah. Found it." 

There was the crinkle of paper as a page of a shielding newspaper was turned. "Good, good." 

_taptap_

"Ah-ha! There's no waiting period for the license. We can pick it up just before the ceremony if we have to." 

Another page turned. "Fantastic." 

"But I think we should get it as soon as we arrive, just in case. Don't you?" 

"Sure, better safe than sorry. Hm, the Jags are having a good season." 

"There are a lot of businesses listed on this site that will help set up weddings. Full service with rooms, limo, official, flowers, champagne..." 

"Sounds good." 

"They do a nondenominational ceremony. We could write our own vows." 

"Uh-huh." 

A hard stare was directed at the paper. "Since Simon, Rafe, and a few of the others are coming along we should have some sort of a reception or maybe a wedding dinner. They don't have a caterer listed, but I can probably find something on the 'net." 

"Um." 

Now the blue eyes were glaring. "Rafe has offered to do the cake." 

"Sounds terrific." 

"I'm leaning toward pistachio." There was a grunt. "With caramel icing." A hum. "And sauerkraut filling." 

"Sounds yummy." 

The legal pad hit the paper with a heavy thump, crumpling it and startling the reader so badly that he ripped one of the pages. 

" _Jesus_ , Jim! Gimme a heart attack, why dontcha?" 

The big, dark-haired man at the computer grimly reached into Blair's lap and retrieved the pad, dropping it back beside the keyboard. He picked up his pen and began to make notes again, ignoring his Guide. 

Blair sighed and folded the paper. "What's wrong?" No reply. Jim clicked the mouse, jumping to a site that featured wedding photographers. 

The few other men in the recreation room exchanged glances. Hell, even THEY knew what was wrong, but this wasn't the sort of situation where it was wise to interfere. Everyone went back to what they had been doing--studiously ignoring the couple. 

Blair looked longingly at the stack of papers piled on the cushion beside him. They only got papers when the copter made a trip out to the rig, and thus they were usually a week or so behind on news. He'd been looking forward to gorging on the sports and editorial pages, but this situation wouldn't stand neglect. "C'mon, babe, what is it?" 

"Nothing." 

Blair winced. There was ice dripping from that single word. "Look, Jim, our ability to talk things out is what makes this relationship work." 

"I've BEEN talking. You haven't been _listening_." He tapped the pad. "I haven't been able to get a single useful piece of input from you on this." 

Blair felt guilty, but shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I figured it'd be better to leave the details to you. You know I'm not all that good at organizing things." 

"You do all right in the kitchen." 

"Yeah, and this job is the first time in my life I've managed to get anything in line and keep it there, and I'm busting a gut doing it. You... Hell, look under 'organized' in the encyclopedia and they'll have a picture of James Joseph Ellison under the definition." 

"Blair, it's not like I'm asking you to register silver and china patterns. These are basic, necessary things. Doesn't it make a bit of difference to you whether it's a civil or a religious ceremony?" 

Blair sighed. "As long as we're together I really don't care if we have the canopy and wineglass." Jim looked puzzled. "I'm Jewish, Jim. You _did_ know that, didn't you?" 

"I hadn't really thought about it, to tell you the truth." 

"See? I'm not the only one who isn't looking at the details." Blair saw the frown lines starting between Jim's eyebrows. *Shit, Sandburg. Pull the Nike out of you mouth now!* 

He got up and moved the last few feet to stand beside Jim, putting his hand on his shoulder. The older man stiffened slightly. Blair said quietly, "If we were alone right now I'd have my arms around you. As it is, I'll have to make it up to you later." Under his hand, Jim was like stone. Blair rubbed gently, and after a moment he felt the muscles loosen a little. He felt relief, knowing that Jim was relenting. 

_This isn't easy for him; he's been through so much. His marriage failed. He won't talk about it, but I get the feeling that his ex was kind of a bitch about it. He couldn't admit to himself that he was gay for such a long time, then he had to deal with that shit from his father. Then there's the Sentinel thing. God, that would be enough to put most people in a rubber room all by itself._

He smiled to himself. *Then along comes Blair Sandburg. *Damn, man. What did you do in your past life to deserve so much crap?* Aloud he said, "Can they fix us up with a luau for our wedding dinner?" 

The frown lines smoothed out. "As a matter of fact, there's a company that specializes in that, if we still have enough time to make the reservation." 

"Good. I want the whole deal: roast pig, poi, pina coladas..." 

"I'm not sure pina coladas are part of a traditional luau." 

"If we have a champagne toast, then I want a pina colada, too. And don't worry about the cake: I'll talk to Rafe about it." 

The rest of the room's occupants breathed stealthy sighs of relief. 

The next morning Rafe was sliding a pan of golden biscuits out of the oven. "Well, I don't know what else you expect, Blair. People get tired of being in charge of everything, all the time." He tossed a glance and a grin at the dark man who was studying a supply order booklet. "Ask Simon." 

"Some people thrive on it, but basically, it sucks," the older man agreed. "That time between when my last assistant left and you showed up was sheer hell. It's not surprising that Jim wants a little help in making the decisions that are gonna affect the both of you. And remember, if you don't give him input, you have no call to gripe if he chooses to do something you don't like." 

Blair sighed, giving the pot of stewed fruit simmering on the stove another stir. "Man, being an adult is a bummer sometimes." 

"Yeah, but there are compensations," Simon offered. "You've got yourself a fantastic chance here, Sandburg. I've never in my life seen two people click like you and Ellison, and it doesn't look like just _infatuation_." He held up a finger, *" But.*" 

Blair, hand on hip, head cocked, echoed him. *"But?*" 

"But no relationship can survive for long if one side is responsible for everything, all the decisions. There's nothing wrong with one of 'em taking the lead, but there has to be some sort of balance, you know? The one in charge burns out, and the one who isn't usually starts to resent it. Even strong relationships have broken up because of something like that." 

Blair felt a tickle of unease. Simon was right: he'd seen the same thing himself among friends and acquaintances. Well, that wasn't going to happen with him and Jim, he decided firmly. Jim seemed to be open to the idea. After all, he'd been asking for Blair's input on the wedding, hadn't he? And come to think of it, there were certain other aspects of this relationship that Blair felt like he wanted a say in, too. He figured that he'd better get started. 

Lunch seemed like a good enough time. 

Blair left the last of the serving to Luke and went to join Jim, as had become his habit. He sat and watched with fond amusement as Jim made his way through a huge plate of beef Stroganoff. "I gave Simon the recipe. Did he put in enough sour cream?" Jim answered by making a circle with his thumb and forefinger, but he didn't stop eating. "Damn, have you developed a hole in your foot? You're putting away more than usual, even for you." 

Jim took another bite of roll. "Yeah, well, we're having to work our butts off to make up for the time we lost when we were down. I can't help it if I burn it off." He sighed. "I'm getting too old for this shit." 

_Bingo. Opening._ "So you need a career change." 

"I guess so, when my contract is up. I don't know what the hell I'll DO, though." 

"Police detective." 

Jim stopped chewing, staring at Blair. Finally he finished the mouthful. "Where the hell did you come up with _that?_ " 

"You said you were a police detective when you came back from Peru." 

"I also said that I couldn't take it. I had to give it up." 

"Yes, but that was when your senses were all over the place, right?" 

"Right." He didn't _quite_ sound grudging. "When they weren't spiking and sending me into shivering fits of complete helplessness, they were a real asset." 

"Jim, this is what you were born for. You're a Sentinel, man, a guardian. You've got your senses, you've got your Guide..." 

"I don't have a tribe." 

"Where did you work before?" 

"Cascade, Washington. The place could be a madhouse. It's one of the highest crime areas in the nation, all kinds of weird shit always going down. But it had a lot of pretty country around it." 

"You should see your face when you say 'Cascade', Jim. You get a far off look in your eyes. And they have a major university there, don't they?" 

"Sure. Rainier." 

"Perfect! They even have a good anthropology department there." 

"Oh, now, look, Chief. Don't go making all sorts of plans. We both have over a year to go on our contracts..." 

"No we don't." 

"What?" 

"My Mom looked into it. She has all kinds of pro bono lawyer friends. They say that we can't be held to the contracts. We'd have to give up the medical, and we'd only get back what we put into the investment funds, no interest, but it could be done." 

"But I'd feel kind of bad about just quitting." 

"So we give them one, two months notice. That will be plenty of time. We'd need the time, anyway, for you to contact the PD and me to contact the college. Anyway, they may not have an opening for you right away, so nothing would be too sudden." 

"They may not have an opening for me, period." 

"Jim, do you _really_ not want to do this, or are you being stubborn on general principles because you don't like someone else making a decision that affects you?" 

Jim stood up, taking his plate. "I need to go check the equipment before we start back up." 

As he started to walk away Blair called, "You're avoiding the issue, man." 

"No, I have to get back." 

"Yeah, like _you're_ gonna pass up dessert." 

That afternoon Jim worked harder than all his men, earning a few surprised looks. Sure, Ellison never backed down from hard work, but he wasn't dumb enough to do what he didn't have to, either. It didn't accomplish what he was hoping for, though. He was still thinking about what Sandburg had proposed. 

The time he had spent as a police detective had been both the most frustrating and the most satisfying of his entire life. Satisfying because he was GOOD at it, and he was making a difference, but frustrating because he knew he could be so much BETTER. The senses weren't the only reason he'd left the force, though they were the main reason. There had been another stress at work. 

Carolyn had tried to direct his choice of careers, too, but her reasons had never seemed all that compelling. Money? They were doing all right, better than all right. Time together? He wasn't the only one who was never at home. What it came down to was that she thought the career was wrong for HER HUSBAND. 

He'd been lonely. Even when he was married, he'd been lonely. Funny how Carolyn could be in the same room, and he'd felt totally alone. If you were going to do that kind of work, dealing with the worst of humanity, you needed someone who understood and supported you. 

_And that's what I have now. Son of a bitch, Sandburg's right._ Jim winced. _And I have to tell him that._ That had been a sore spot in his marriage also. There had been times he'd given in and claimed a wrong he really didn't believe, just to have a little peace, but the peace didn't come till the gloating had finished. Oh, well. 

He found Blair in the rec room after his shift. The younger man was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed under him like a kid. He had his glasses on, and was reading the paper again. Jim came up behind him and gently tugged his ponytail. Not looking around, Blair said, "If that isn't Ellison, I'm kicking your ass when I finish this article." 

Jim came around and sat beside him. "What if it _is_ me?" 

Still not looking up Blair reached over to the table beside him, picked up a plate holding several cookies, and handed it to Jim. "You forgot this when you ran away this afternoon." 

_Okay, here it comes._ But Blair said nothing, continuing to read. Jim ate one cookie. If Blair would continue his argument, it might be easier to let him think he'd finally convinced him, rather than his having caved in. But all Blair did was turn a page. Jim took a breath. "I've been thinking about what we were talking about." 

"You mean what _I_ was talking about-- _you_ were dodging." 

"Uh, yeah." He ate another cookie, stalling. Blair finally dropped the top half of the paper and looked at him. "I've thought about it." Silence. "I think it would be a good idea." He waited for the 'I told you so.' 

What he got instead was a brilliant smile. "Thanks." 

Bewildered, he said, "For what?" 

"For not making me beg." Blair stole the last cookie off the saucer. 

Jim's voice was low and intimate. "Well, I'd hate to waste perfectly good begging outside the bedroom. Speaking of which... Your place tonight?" 

Blair grinned. "Do you think you can stand that long walk halfway across the platform after I get through with you?" Though they usually spent most of the night together in one or the other of their rooms, the visitor always tried to make it back to his own quarters before it was time to get up. 

They were on the graveyard shift, which meant that they slept most of the day away. It was a little odd at first for Blair, going back to his own room in blazing daylight after a 'night' of hot sex, but he was perfectly willing to do it. He and Jim had been a little nervous about it at first because of the very sensible worry about how their fellow workers would react to their relationship. Just one hostile homophobe could make things uncomfortable, if not dangerous. But in a closed environment like the rig, it was very difficult to keep secrets for very long. 

They were seen leaving each other's rooms a time or two, and it was impossible for them to disguise the increasing closeness when they were in public, so gradually the awareness spread. And, to their great relief, (and not a little surprise), no one seemed to think much about it. There were a few puzzled looks, but they were generally followed by shrugs. Luke told Blair that anything that kept not only the cook, but also the head tool pusher, happy was welcomed by the men. Blair was a better cook than the man he had replaced, and Jim was a lot mellower these days. The crew members were all in favor of the match. 

"That would be another advantage of getting the detective job," Jim mused. "We could have our own place. How does that sound, Chief? In a nice area, maybe with a balcony?" 

"Sounds fine, big guy, but all I'm really worried about is the bed. Big and sturdy. We haven't done it anywhere but the bunks so far, and THEY'RE attached to the wall. I'm almost afraid that we'll trash a real bed when we really get going." 

Jim reached over and squeezed Blair's knee. "Let's go test yours again." 

Blair stood. "I'm going, before I make us the scandal of the rig by kissing you stupid in public." He pointed at Jim. "If you lollygag around, I will start without you, and as horny as I am that could mean _finishing_ without you, too." 

Jim only waited long enough to watch Blair's butt swing out of the rec room door before he stood up, stretched with elaborate casualness, and strolled out. The two men left in the room, part of his crew, watched him saunter out, then listened as his footsteps sped up into a pounding run once he was out of sight. One looked at the other and said, "Think he'll catch him?" 

His friend shrugged. "Dunno. That Sandburg is a fast little booger." He grinned. "Be interesting to see if Ellison _did_ catch him outside the room, though." 

* * *

End Give a Little, Get a Lot, Part 1 by Scribe: poet77665@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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